The doorbell sounded again, then someone knocked so hard that she thought they’d break the door down. She shot up from the couch and stomped over to throw it open.
“Bentley?”
“Jane.” He smiled. He really did have a killer smile.
“Um? What are you doing here?”
“Getting your sizes, of course,” he said as he handed her a garment bag. “For some reason women keep leaving their clothes in my apartment. As if I’d invite them back. Ha. Anyway, let’s see if any of these fit.”
“Wait, what—”
“Trust me,” Bentley shrugged. “Can you do that?”
It was the same thing Brock had said to her.
“But Brock—”
“Trust him, too.” Bentley said gently, although his gaze was a bit harsh, as if he didn’t have the patience for her to argue with him. “Now, let’s get you out of those clothes.”
She jerked back and eyed him up and down. “Some things never change.”
“Shit.” Bentley rubbed his temples. “That came out wrong. What I meant was, let’s see if any of these fit. So we can figure out what kind of dress to get. Please?”
“For?” Jane rubbed her arms and stepped back into the house.
“Cinderella has to go to the ball, don’t you think?”
She shook her head. “Bentley, this is sweet, you’re sweet, but I haven’t heard from him in two days and, even though I have the money to buy a ticket….” Had she really lost trust in him that fast? When he swore he’d make things right?
“His phone was dead on day one and he’s been…advised.” Bentley chose his words carefully it seemed. “He’s not supposed to make actual contact with you until the right time. He’s working on a solution to this whole mess, believe me. And you’ve had the media camped outside your house for God knows how long. It’s a simple question, Jane. Do you trust him?”
She stared Bentley down. He seemed genuine, but oh how her heart hurt. “Yes,” She finally whispered. “I do.” Tears threatened again. “But the company, it’s everything to him, and not letting you guys down and his grandfather; don’t even get me started on that piece of work and—”
Bentley pressed a finger to her lips. “Do you care for Brock? Possibly love him?”
Tears spilled onto her cheeks. Ah! Why couldn’t she stop crying! Three weeks shouldn’t have affected her so much—but Brock had found his way into her heart and no amount of tears or logic that he was doing what he had to do made the pain go away or the sadness at potentially losing him. And really, what was she losing him to? A nameless face? Not really. The messed-up part was that really when she thought about it, she was losing him to his grandfather.
“Thought so.” Bentley grinned, bringing her back to the present. He removed his finger and then let out a whistle. To her horror several people piled out of a black SUV and started shuffling into her house.
“Is this necessary?”
His eyes twinkled and that practiced, devastating, panty-melting smile was back in full force. “For a Wellington? For Jane? For the princess of the ball? Absolutely. Besides, my brother would have me by the balls if I did anything as half assed as sending you to the mall.”
* * *
“Should you maybe stop at the stop signs?” Jane gripped the door handle and held on for dear life.
“Speed makes me feel alive!” The driver of the Uber car Bentley had hired chuckled and then took a hard right followed by another hard left that had the tires screeching in protest. “Ah hah! I knew we were close.”
They were in an abandoned parking lot.
“To where you plan on murdering me?” Jane scooted next to the door just in case she had to actually make a run for it. Two hours after taking her measurements Bentley had insisted on sending a car for her. In his words, she needed to pick out a dress.
But still.
No Brock.
And yet Bentley’s words bounced around in her head. Trust Brock. Which meant Brock was in on all of this, but she still didn’t even know what this was?
At Bentley’s insistence, she purchased a ticket for the ball. His instructions were clear. “Your money is your own.”
What does that even mean?
Should she bid on Brock?
Well, duh, of course; but thirty grand wasn’t going to win her anything!
Nothing made sense.
Doubt crept in the corners of her mind.
And then the driver put the car in park and turned it off. “Parking lots are too out in the open, now a parking garage…” He tapped his chin and grinned. “I could commit a crime there, I suppose.”